


whiskey sour on your tongue

by shinykari (meinterrupted)



Category: Push (2009)
Genre: Character in distress, Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, In Vino Veritas, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/shinykari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cassie drinks, draws, and pines, and Nick is less oblivious than previously indicated. (Kind of. He's still an idiot, though.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	whiskey sour on your tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victoria_p (musesfool)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/gifts).



> Over on [tumblr](http://shinykari.tumblr.com), I asked for fic prompts, and Vic gave me "Nick/Cassie, fake dating." This is...not exactly that. Whoops!
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Cassie's 16 and looks 13, but her ID says she's 23, so the bored looking bartender pours her a whiskey sour when she hands it over with a ten-dollar bill. He gives her back her change and wanders down to talk to his friend at the end of the bar, leaving Cassie alone with her drink. The tartness of the sour mix overwhelms the flavor of the cheap house whiskey, but she's not going to complain. It's better than _baijiu_ straight from the bottle, anyhow.

She finishes the first one relatively quickly, and waves the bartender down for a refill. He makes this one a little stronger, and she tips him better. He thanks her with a wink and a smile, his teeth very white in his dark face, and Cassie raises her glass in salute before taking a long drink.

She's four drinks deep and a little more than pleasantly buzzed when the happy hour crowd starts to filter in. Too engrossed in her notebook, Cassie doesn't notice when the man sits down next to her and orders himself a drink. She continues sketching her vision--it's not great, but at least there are no dead people this time--until he leans in close, asking her what she's drawing. She startles badly, and jerks away, covering the paper with her arm. "None of your business," she spits, her heart pounding too fast in her chest.

The man holds up his hands in surrender, smiling disarmingly. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Cassie narrows her eyes and studies him. He's attractive, in a bland sort of way: brown hair, hazel eyes, pale skin with a hint of day's end stubble. His tie is loose and the first two buttons of his oxford shirt are undone, giving him a casual air.

He's so normal, it's creepy.

Cassie doesn't say anything, just turns back to her drawing. The vision is fading fast, and she needs to get it down before it disappears for good, or she's just wasted an afternoon and thirty bucks.

"I'm Brent," the man says, trying again.

"I don't care," she mumbles, trying to remember the numbers above the door in her vision.

The man--Brent--huffs out an offended laugh. "That's kind of rude."

"Actually, what's rude is continuing to talk to someone who obviously doesn't want to talk to you," Nick answers, settling his hand on Cassie's shoulder possessively. Cassie leans into him unconsciously; Nick may be the world's biggest idiot, but she's never felt safer with anyone. 

"Hey man, I didn't know she was with anyone," Brent says. "All she had to do was tell me that, and I'd have backed off."

"She shouldn't have had to," Nick shoots back, while Cassie shuts her notebook and collects her pens. "Come on, Cass, let's get out of here."

"Yeah, let's," she mutters, waving to the bartender as Nick guides her out onto the street. The sun hasn't set yet, and she squints in the bright light. "I didn't need saved," she says, once they're a few blocks from the bar.

What she means is that she didn't need him to pretend to be her boyfriend to avoid some creeper at a bar, but she's not drunk enough to let _that_ spill. She's been keeping that little secret since before Kira split, and a few whiskey sours and some asshole aren't enough to drag that truth into the light. Every time Nick says something about them being together, or her as his girlfriend, something in her chest seizes painfully. As much as she wants to hear those words from him, hearing while knowing that he doesn't mean them--that he doesn't want _her_ \--hurts more than she imagined possible, and she's imagined a lot.

Nick doesn't respond, just keeps walking, heading toward the shitty motel they've been holed up in for the past two weeks. Cassie stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, but before she can hit the concrete, Nick's hands are there, catching her around the upper arms and pulling her upright. "Cassie," he murmurs, pulling her into his chest.

She lets herself fall into him, to sink into the warm strength of his body, for just a moment. She can pretend, for this short span of time, that Nick is hers, that she is his, and that they are more than just fugitives thrust together by circumstance. But it's all a lie, she remembers, gritting her teeth and pulling away roughly. Cassie stalks off, leaving Nick in her wake.

He's confused; she doesn't have to be psychic to know that. Cassie has never reacted like this to Nick, and eventually she's going to have to explain herself. She's not looking forward to that conversation, but she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it. Right now, all she wants is a glass of water, a couple aspirin, and her bed.

Cassie doesn't trip again before they make it to the motel, which she counts as a win. Nick unlocks the door, since she can't seem to find her key in her jeans pocket, and fills an old McDonald's cup with water while she flops down, face-first, onto the scratchy comforter. She takes the water and the pills gratefully, and manages to not choke on the pain killers when he says, "What the hell was that about, Cass?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, after her sputtering stopped.

"Bullshit," he answers, simply.

Cassie narrows her eyes. "I was trying to see this vision more clearly, and so I went to a bar."

Nick arches an eyebrow. "I'm not talking about the bar and you know it."

"You don't want to have this conversation," she says after a moment. "You don't."

He doesn't back off, not that she really expected him to. Nick is kind of an idiot, after all. "Cassie," he says, tone almost pleading, "please."

She bites her bottom lip and looks away, studying the ridiculous floral pattern of the wallpaper. Just as she's about to admit to her ill-advised crush, a vision hits her like a Mack truck, forcing everything but the immediate future out of her brain. She gasps, reaching for Nick in her panic, and he holds her through it.

As soon as she can speak, she pulls away. "We gotta go," she says, grabbing for the clothes she's left strewn about. "Division's coming. They'll be here in twenty minutes."

Nick nods, and starts packing. She knows he hasn't forgotten, but hopefully, by the time they're safe again, she'll have a better excuse than _I'm in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> [Baijiu](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baijiu) is a Chinese distilled alcoholic beverage. The name baijiu literally means "white liquor", "white alcohol" or "white spirits". Baijiu is often translated as "wine" or "white wine". However, it is actually a distilled liquor, generally about 40–60% alcohol by volume (ABV).


End file.
